In his frequent visits to the stable, Jacko amused himself by catching mice that crept out to pick up the corn.

The servants, having noticed his skill, thought they would turn it to good account, and having been troubled with mice in the pantry, determined to take advantage of the absence of Mrs. Lee on a journey, and shut the monkey up in it.  So, one evening, they took him out of his comfortable bed, and chained him up in the larder, having removed every thing except some jam pots, which they thought out of his reach, and well secured with bladder stretched over the top.

Poor Jacko was evidently much astonished, and quite indignant, at this treatment, but presently consoled himself by jumping into a soup tureen, where he fell sound asleep, while the mice scampered all over the place.

As soon as it was dawn, the mice retired to their holes.  Jacko awoke shivering with cold, stretched himself, and then, pushing the soup tureen from the shelf, broke it to pieces.  After this achievement, he began to look about for something to eat, when he spied the jam pots on the upper shelf.

“There is something good,” he thought, smelling them.  “I’ll see.”

His sharp teeth soon worked an entrance, when the treasured jams, plums, raspberry, strawberry, candied apricots, the pride and care of the cook, disappeared in an unaccountably short time.

At last, his appetite for sweets was satisfied, and coiling his tail in a corner, he lay quietly awaiting the servant’s coming to take him out.

Presently he heard the door cautiously open, when the chamber girl gave a scream of horror as she saw the elegant China dish broken into a thousand bits, and lying scattered on the floor.

She ran in haste to summon Hepsy and the nurse, her heart misgiving her that this was not the end of the calamity.  They easily removed Jacko, who began already to experience the sad effects of overloading his stomach, and then found, with alarm and grief, the damage he had done.

For several days the monkey did not recover from the effects of his excess.  He was never shut up again in the pantry.

When Mrs. Lee returned she blamed the servants for trying such an experiment in her absence.  Jacko was now well, and ready for some new mischief; and Minnie, who heard a ludicrous account of the story, laughed till she cried.

She repeated it, in great glee, to her father, who looked very grave as he said, “We think a sea voyage would do the troublesome fellow good; but you shall have a Canary or a pair of Java sparrows instead.”

“Don’t you know any stories of good monkeys, father?”

“I don’t recollect any at this moment, my dear; but I will see whether I can find any for you.”

He opened the book, and then asked,-

“Did you know, Minnie, that almost all monkeys have bags or pouches in their cheeks, the skin of which is loose, and when empty makes the animal look wrinkled?”

“No, sir; I never heard about it.”

“Yes, that is the case.  He puts his food in them, and keeps it there till he wishes to devour it.

“There are some kinds, too, that have what is called prehensile tails; that is, tails by which they can hang themselves to the limb of a tree, and which they use with nearly as much ease as they can their hands.  The facility which this affords them for moving about quickly among the branches of trees is astonishing.  The firmness of the grasp which it makes is very surprising; for if it winds a single coil around a branch, it is quite sufficient, not only to support its weight, but to enable it to swing in such a manner as to gain a fresh hold with its feet.”

“I’m sure, father,” eagerly cried Minnie, “that Jacko has a prehensile tail, for I have often seen him swing from the ladder which goes up the hay mow.”

“I dare say, child.  He seems to be up to every thing.  But here is an account of an Indian monkey, of a light grayish yellow color, with black hands and feet.  The face is black, with a violet tinge.  This is called Hoonuman, and is much venerated by the Hindoos.  They believe it to be one of the animals into which the souls of their friends pass at death.  If one of these monkeys is killed, the murderer is instantly put to death; and, thus protected, they become a great nuisance, and destroy great quantities of fruit.  But in South America, monkeys are killed by the natives as game, for the sake of the flesh.  Absolute necessity alone would compel us to eat them.  A great naturalist named Humboldt tells us that their manner of cooking them is especially disgusting.  They are raised a foot from the ground, and bent into a sitting position, in which they greatly resemble a child, and are roasted in that manner.  A hand and arm of a monkey, roasted in this way, are exhibited in a museum in Paris.”

“Monkeys have a curious way of introducing their tails into the fissures or hollows of trees, for the purpose of hooking out eggs and other substances.  On approaching a spot where there is a supply of food, they do not alight at once, but take a survey of the neighborhood, a general cry being kept up by the party.”